Hospitals -- Juvenile fiction; Jealousy -- Juvenile fiction; Mate selection -- Juvenile fiction; Young women -- Juvenile fiction
“You mustn’t set your heart on going this afternoon,” Aunt Sophie
finally advised. “To my mind it is very uncertain whether she
comes”--there was a perceptible pause--“to-day.”
“Oh, I s’pose it will be just as nice if she shouldn’t come till
to-morrow,” the child reflected, “’cause then I shall have it longer
to think about. You see, one day doesn’t make much difference,” she
philosophized. “Yesterday it seemed a perfect age till to-day, and now
it’s right here in no time at all. I guess it’s always that way. So if
she doesn’t have time to come to-day, I shall know to-morrow will be
here in just a few minutes. But I guess she’ll come--I kind o’ feel
it! Don’t you ever feel things coming, Aunt Sophie?”
The plump little aunt bobbed her head with a “M-h’m” over the drawer
where the small girl’s stockings were kept.
The little one chattered on until she was seated in her high, cushioned
chair at the breakfast table.
“Now you’d better let your victuals stop your mouth,” laughed her aunt,
not unkindly. “If you don’t keep still, pretty soon you won’t be fit to
go to ride or anywhere else. You’ve talked every minute since you woke
up.”
The child pressed a forefinger to her smiling lips, while she looked
across the table in merry response.
Morning usually slipped swiftly away with the elder member of the
household, but dragged more or less wearily with the little one who had
nothing to do but to sit at the window and gaze across the street and
up at the lawns and gardens that surrounded the home of Mrs. Hamilton
Garde on Burton Avenue. She could catch glimpses of the great house,
with its towers and multi-colored roofs, as the green branches waved to
and fro. The stables and garage were at the foot of the hill, almost
directly opposite the little gray house, and a path led down from the
mansion above. Few trod this path except the stable boys, the coachman
that drove the handsome pair of black horses, and the two chauffeurs
who had charge of the shining cars.
The watcher at the small window never tired of looking at those
beautiful cars when they came out of the garage, and they generally did
come out two or three times a day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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